For most filmmakers, tackling one of the most iconic stories ever to be told would seem daunting, if not impossible. But British director Christopher Nolan carried the seed of an idea for a cinematic retelling of The Odyssey for nearly two decades (coincidentally, the same amount of time that it takes the poem’s protagonist, Odysseus, to return home from the Trojan War), and, following the success of 2023’s Oppenheimer, he was determined to see his vision realised. Starring Matt Damon as our reluctant hero, the film follows the legendary king of Ithaca as he battles monsters and weathers storms to be reunited with his beloved wife Penelope and son Telemachus.

The Odyssey is groundbreaking on numerous fronts. Not only is this Nolan’s most expensive movie to date, with a budget of $250m (£186m), it is also the first film to be shot entirely on IMAX cameras. As such, it is large in scope, both figuratively and literally. Each setting, from the lamp-lit banquet halls to the glistening deserts, the misty forests to the rugged coastal terrains, is highly evocative. But Nolan’s pursuit of aesthetic perfection didn’t come without a certain cost. Some locations could only be reached via helicopter. Others took nearly an hour’s hike. Nolan defended these decisions, arguing that ‘nature and the real world gives you a scale  … that you can’t achieve in a studio.’


Casting Doubts

Damon has previously stated that he feels as though his ‘whole professional life [has] built up to this experience,’ and you can understand why. Odysseus is a thoroughly complicated character. Flawed, yet enduring. Nobody can ‘either better or come near him’ when it comes to strength, but he is charitable and you ‘never shall find so humane a royal master.’ Some believe him to be cunning and economical with the truth; others repeatedly praise him for his ‘wisdom’ and ‘valour.’ At times, he can be selfish and irrationally violent, particularly when he leaves ‘the pavement boiling’ with the suitors’ blood, but he is generally ‘more inclined to cares than conflict’ and is fiercely protective of his wife and son.

‘For this very complex character, you need an actor who disappears into parts,’ Nolan said of choosing Damon as his lead. ‘You want the audience to go with him through [Odysseus’] mistakes.’

Attempting to show all of these facets within the same person is no mean feat, yet Damon undertakes this diligently. Does his Odysseus achieve an equal depth as Homer’s? Admittedly not. But he does display a level of maturity not seen in his previous films, such as The Martian and Interstellar (also directed by Nolan). The female representation in the movie is not to be sniffed at either, even with the exclusion of Princess Nausicaä. Samantha Morton shines as the ‘dreadful, eloquent’ sorceress Circe and outperforms Cyclopses and the six-headed Scylla in the horror department. Meanwhile, Anne Hathaway’s tortured but headstrong Penelope holds her own against a room full of men all vying for her husband’s throne, including Robert Pattison’s dastardly Antinous.

Pattison’s performance is one of the highlights of the film. He is essentially the main villain, the ringleader of the ‘lusty wooers’ who is described by Homer as ‘shameless,’ ‘proud’ and ‘violent.’ His presence may be unnerving, but he plays the baddie well, and his Antinous is a far cry from the one-dimensional Edward Cullen of the Twilight series. One actor who I feel failed to show much progression, however, is Tom Holland, who launches the narrative as Telemachus.

His questionable American accent is off-putting to say the least, and his on-screen presence often resembles Peter Parker turning up to a costume party as a gladiator. His soppiness can start to grate on the viewer, but if you consult the book, such a portrayal is accurate. At just twenty years old, ‘young’ Telemachus is ‘grieved much in mind,’ yearning for an ‘absent sire’ he has never met and fearing for his mother’s safety.

Perhaps I am unfairly giving Holland a hard time. But the one cast member who has truly been given a hard time during the run-up to the film’s release is indisputably Lupita Nyong’o. The casting of a black actress as Helen of Troy has caused a particular stir online. Previous film and television versions have all cast Helen as white and often blond. However, in the original poem, very little is known about Helen aside from her famed beauty. Arguably, attractiveness is up for interpretation and will always be subject to the beauty ideals of each era. As the poet John Keats, who coincidentally loved Homer’s work, famously said: ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.’ While it is true that Helen was probably not black, her race has no bearing on the story. If it is Nyong’o’s nationality as a Kenyan that viewers take issue with, then surely the casting of British and American actors in a Greek retelling ought to be a point of contention too.

As someone who has previously covered tokenism in the film industry, I emphatically disagree with the ‘woke’ accusations being levelled at Nolan. As he reiterated in a recent interview, he chose Nyong’o because of her emotional depth and ability to make the audience ponder ‘what it would actually be like to be the catalyst for this huge war [and] what that would do to a person.’

Themes of War and Masculinity

What surprised me most about the original text was its generous attitude towards masculinity. In a 12,200-line poem, I counted ten separate instances of men crying, most often involving Odysseus himself. When we are first introduced to our titular hero, he is ‘drowned in discontent,’ ‘steeping in the misery of ceaseless tears’ because he has been kept prisoner by the goddess Calypso for seven years. Once she finally frees him and he escapes to Phaeacia, he listens to a poet recounting the events of the Trojan war with ‘tears uncontained.’ Again, we are told that Odysseus cannot ‘forbear [his] tears’ after eventually being reunited with his son Telemachus, who in turn showers ‘tears on tears’ upon his father while our hero ‘we[eps] for joy’ before his wife Penelope.

The strong, brave warrior Odysseus doesn’t even have the ‘power to abstain from shedding tears’ when his dog recognises him, even though its master has been away for two decades — a scene Nolan tenderly recreates. The male characters may cry, but that does not make them any less manly or courageous. In the age of the manosphere, this cinematic retelling of a nearly three-thousand-year-old poem is exactly the kind of positive male representation we needed.

Another particular of this film is Nolan’s exploration of a soldier’s psyche. In the original text, we know that Troy has been ‘sacked’ and that Odysseus is ‘still … suffering’ despite the Greeks’ victory. The film goes one step further. Each action sequence is followed by quiet contemplation. Each war scene concludes with a wide shot of the ensuing wreckage, highlighting the true toll of conflict. When Odysseus at last returns home, he is a ghost of the warrior who left all those years ago. As fighting currently engulfs the Middle East and regions of Africa, and the threat of the conflict in Ukraine spilling over into Europe weighs heavily on people’s minds, these ancient themes of destruction arguably have just as much resonance for us today as they did for Homer’s audience.

Damon’s Odysseus is consumed by guilt and haunted by his fallen troops. There is one particularly poignant flashback when he stands before the burning city of Troy. He may have won the war and freed the abducted Helen, but at the cost of countless lives, and, in some ways, the conflict had brought about the death of the Bronze Age civilisation. This burden plays heavily on Odysseus’ mind throughout the film, but in the original text, our hero is not so repentant.

One key scene is noticeably absent in Nolan’s retelling. We know that nothing takes precedence over Odysseus’ desire to return home. In Homer’s Odyssey, Odysseus allows the Phaeacians to hand over their finest boat and 52 of their youths so that he can sail back to Ithaca, knowing full well that the journey will incite Poseidon’s wrath. In retaliation, the water god turns the ship to stone with only Odysseus left as the survivor. The young men he has sacrificed are never mentioned again; his only concern is with his wife and son. At this point, one cannot help but feel that the director has tried to sanitise certain aspects of the narrative and turn an enigmatic leader with a questionable moral compass into a Hollywood-approved hero. In turn, some nuance is lost in favour of making the character more palatable for a modern audience.

A Modern Narrative

Another key deviation from previous retellings is Nolan’s decision to use modern speech rather than preserve the poetic lyricism of George Chapman’s renowned 1616 translation. To give you a taste, Holland’s Telemachus refers to Odysseus as ‘Dad’ as opposed to ‘sire.’ However, these subtle changes never seriously threaten the story’s integrity. Rather, they make it easier for a contemporary audience to follow a non-linear plot, something which should help boost this classic tale’s accessibility. At the end of the day, The Odyssey is a story about family and redemption, which has captivated people throughout the ages and is the reason why ‘we are still talking about it 3,000 years later,’ as Damon rightly said. Its highly successful $264m (£196m) opening weekend is proof of this. Nolan serves us with the interpretation for our times, as the Elizabethan playwright Chapman did for his.

The Odyssey is the kind of film that reminds you of the power of cinema. Despite some omissions and alterations, Nolan’s film is every bit as epic as the original text. With a stellar cast, non-stop adventure and exquisitely atmospheric settings, there is no doubt that this movie will be the defining pop culture moment of the year and will win big come awards season.

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